


The Tales of Kibasen and Casseroles

by hiimraen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I promise, Multi, Party at Lydia's place, Pre-Slash, Song Inspired, Summer/Spring fic, Swimming pool scene, Teen Wolf FanFiction Competition, also, and food, and swimming, because duh, but not THAT scene, no spiked-drink this time, somewhat AU-ish, there's a lot of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiimraen/pseuds/hiimraen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about Lydia's Spring Pool Party, and how the two Hale's kind of ruined it, but not really.</p><p>That title? Of course it's related, you silly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tales of Kibasen and Casseroles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kailany_Aurora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kailany_Aurora/gifts), [caristia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caristia/gifts), [alerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alerie/gifts).



> Hey guys! This is one fic that I wanted to write for Jenny for Teen Wolf FanFiction contest because I have this idea and yet I'm not American, so I thought I'd give her this as a surprise, but then surprise surprise, Rule #5, #11, and probably #14 was definitely harmed in the making of this fic here. Also 3000 words whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttt...
> 
> Anyway, I'm gifting this piece here to Jenny, who is a lovely person and needs to freaking finishes her fic because I said so (just kidding, Jenny) and to Caristia, who needs to stay strong and keep on doing whatever she can in making sure that she gets into whatever university she's planning on getting into, and to Alerie, who has the most desirable job in the whole wide world, with a message, 'Here, this is for y'all. Now, where's mine?' (LOL kidding too...)
> 
> Also if you're wondering what is it about me and songs and the relation to fics, please, I just love music, and the lyrics and sometimes the video just gets to me and then they stay stuck in my head unless if I do something about them, y'know. Well yeah.
> 
> Also this work is unbeta-ed, any mistakes are mine exclusively, so if you can kindly point it out to me, I'd kindly correct it for you. That's all. Kudos and comments deserves online BROWNIES!

 

 

 

“Wait, you _and_ Lydia are inviting me _and_ Scott to a Spring Pool Party? At Lydia’s house?” Stiles said to his phone. He had already checked the caller ID at least 3 times, and yep, he is talking to Jackson Whittemore.

 

“Listen, Stiles,” the way he pronounce Stiles’ name was as if it’s venomous or something, “Don’t make me regret this. Besides, its Lydia’s idea, and you better be there, or I’ll drag both you and your werewolf friend’s sorry asses down to that house and into that damn pool.”

 

“Uh huh, I’m not sure if that is the way for you to invite someone to that party,” Stiles reprimanded. But Jackson ignored him, when he continued on. “Whatever, smart-ass. Just make sure you bring something for the party, it’s a pot-luck pool party, or else no entry.”

 

And with that, the line went dead. “Well,” Stiles said to the empty bedroom, “someone missed their anger management class with the Hales today.”

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Scott is the worst kitchen helper, _ever_. Period.

 

“Scott!” Stiles called from the kitchen, and he bet his freaking pinkie that Scott heard him thanks for the fact that he’s a freaking werewolf. “You better get your hairy ass down here and help me, damn it!” Needless to say, Stiles was left alone to pound the beef to oblivion as Scott do what Scott do these days – waiting for Allison to reply his texts.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Stiles swear to God he didn’t jumps and shrieks like a little girl when Derek suddenly appeared next to him at the kitchen counter. “Dude, what the hell?” Derek scowled at him, and pointed at the mess that is the batch of pounded beef in front of him. “What are you doing?” He repeated, like Stiles’ deaf or something.

 

“I’m making Cheesy-Chicken and Beef Casseroles and Scott is being an _asshole_!” That last part about Scott was shouted towards the general vicinity of the staircase, as much as he could with Derek Hale looming over next to him. Derek hummed, and the frown on his forehead eased a little bit. “For what?” He asked curtly.

 

“For Lydia’s Spring Pool Party. We’re doing it pot-luck style.” Stiles can’t help noticing the slight twitch of Derek’s jaw at the mention of Lydia’s name.

 

“Hmm,” is all Derek said, and with that he fled from the scene, and judging by the sound of the footsteps on the stairs, he went up to terrorize Scott. Stiles continued on making the casseroles, because really, hoping that Derek would somehow manage to force Scott’s sorry-ass to help out is like waiting for the blue moon or something, which by the way, is totally not happening.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

The sound of Scott, Isaac and Danny laughing and splashing water accompanies Stiles as he walks into Lydia’s house, the tray of Cheesy-Chicken and Beef Casseroles that he made all by himself in his hands. As he walks into the kitchen though, the image of Jackson and Lydia sucking each other faces off greets his eyes. Stiles turns halfway around and spots Allison at a corner, transferring two cupcakes at a time to another platter. “Hey, Stiles,” she says, as a small smile forming on her lips.

 

“Hey,” Stiles answers back. Jackson and Lydia stops making out at the sound of Stiles’ voice. “Stiles,” Lydia exclaims, as she pushes Jackson away and walking towards Stiles, holding her hands in front of her as she grabs Stiles and kissing both of his cheeks. Stiles blushes, only a little, and cleared his throat when he see how crossed Jackson looks like from his perch in front of the fridge. “Hey, Lydia, Jackson.”

 

“Casseroles,” Lydia chirps, as she took hold of the tray and walking pointedly towards the kitchen counter. “Yeah, it’s Cheesy-Chicken and Beef, from _moi_ and Scott.” Stiles says, even as Lydia ignores him and starts on poking and taking bite of the casseroles.

 

Stiles’ plan on fleeing the scene altogether and joining the rest of the gang in the pool was put on halt as Jackson hands Stiles a bottle of beer. “Hey, Jackson.” Stiles reaches gingerly for the beer. “Thanks.”

 

Jackson nods at that. “Well, thanks for coming. And for the casseroles.” Stiles watches as Jackson looks over at Lydia, who is laughing with Allison as they fishes out plates and cups and utensils, and somehow he knows that Jackson is not only thanking him for attending the pool party – or the casseroles. Somehow, he knows that Jackson is also thanking him for being still here, even after everything that had happened. For being that one thing that probably have never changed and never will change in the next foreseeable future.

 

Or maybe Stiles is just looking at it too deeply, putting too much thought on what is a really simple gesture. Stiles sighs as he downs the beer, letting the buzz shots through his vein.

 

Allison and Lydia starts to bicker on something, and Stiles and Jackson can’t help the laughter that burst out of their guts when Allison shoves a cupcake at Lydia’s face. Lydia was about to do the same at Allison, who was circling the kitchen counter in an attempt to escape her, when Jackson suddenly perks up and literally stops everything that’s happening in the kitchen with a single hand in the air. “Someone’s here.”

 

Slowly, the four of them trudges to the front door, and at the hallway, the group meets up with Scott and Isaac. “Who is it?” Stiles asks.

 

“Don’t know,” replied Scott, while Isaac merely shrugs. “Why don’t you open the door and we’ll see?” Scott suggests.

 

When nobody moves or does anything, Lydia grunts in frustration and pushes through everybody and pulls the front door open. “Oh.” Everybody peeks over Lydia’s shoulder, and there at the front door are Erica and Boyd. “Hey guys,” Erica says, with a shy smile of her lips. She shows the box of beer she had in her hand and Boyd did the same, a few huge packets of marshmallow in his hands. “Brought some drinks and marshmallows – can we come in?”

  
There’s a tension in the air, and everybody waits as Lydia looks over the items held in front of her. She hums as she taps a finger on her chin. “Sure,” Lydia finally says, and just like that, everybody sighs in relief and starts to make space for the both of Boyd and Erica. “Come on in, and give whatever loot you have to Stiles and Allison. Stiles, Allison.” With that, she heads off to what maybe is the kitchen.

 

Stiles smiles to himself and walks off with the beer in his one hand, tugging Allison and the bags of marshmallow she have along with his other hand. Somewhere at the front door, he can hear Scott and Isaac laughing together with Boyd as they talk about werewolf-y stuffs or something, and Stiles thought, that this Spring Pool Party would be  the most awesome party he’d ever been too.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

This Spring Pool Party is the worst party he’d ever been to – and all thanks to two Hale’s. Fucking Hale’s and their problem with everything…

 

It all started out nice and slow – as nice and slow as pool party can get, anyway. Lydia (her Majesty) with the help of Stiles (the Court’s Jester) and Allison (her Royal Princess) managed to bring out whatever it is that the packs have brought for the night – Stiles’ (and Scott’s) Cheesy-Chicken & Beef Casseroles (tonight’s specialty), Allison’s cupcakes (baking goodness), Danny’s Grilled Chicken Salad (very healthy), Isaac’s lasagna (surprisingly _good_ ) – it was the start of the good night, plus both Jackson’s and Erica’s booze and also Boyd’s promise of a s’more later that night, things were going pretty well.

 

When they were done with the food station, Allison jumped into the pool and everybody’s wet save for both Lydia and Stiles, who somehow was elected as the co-host for the night instead of Jackson, going back and forth from the kitchen to the pool area, setting up the plates and cups and foods. They were both just done with whatever that Lydia thought needs to be done, and Stiles was just about to jump into the pool with his shirts and all, when the front door bell rang. Lydia looked pointedly at Stiles, and Stiles sighed as he shuffled to the front door with heavy feet.

 

He was about to say ‘hi’ to the people at the front door and question them ‘why are they here at this time of the night’ and depending on what they have at their hands, Stiles may or may not invite them in, when there’s Derek and Peter at the front door.

 

That’s Derek Hale _and_ Peter Hale. _Like, what the Hale?_

 

“Not funny, Stiles.” Derek said, in lieu of greetings. Stiles replied with “Huh?” to which Peter laughed good-heartedly ( _hah_ ) and pushed his way into the house. “Um, pretty sure you’d need to bring something for the party, plus hey, I didn’t invite you in!”

 

Peter turned back and glared at Stiles, before smiling all sweetly and cunningly at the same time. “That’s vampire, honey. Plus, Derek brought something; I’m just here to crash the party.”

 

And that is exactly how Lydia’s Spring Pool Party turned from the best night to the possibly-the-worst-idea-ever-created-in-the-history-of-all-nights in less than an hour.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Stiles would probably blame Jackson for this. The combination of Jackson, pool, and Derek somehow brings up bad memory and Stiles really, really hopes that the night won’t be ruined in any other way than it already is. As it is, Stiles is laying down on one of the four chaises lounges that Lydia has. If he chosen the lounge directly besides Derek is in, well, let’s just say it’s either that or the one nearest to Peter Hale, and God no – just, _no_.

 

Derek is reading something (when is he _not_ reading something, really) and totally ignoring the whole crowd of people screaming, yelling and laughing at the same in the pool, and it’s hurting Stiles’ head trying to figure out why is he here – _with_ Peter Hale. “Why are you here?” Stiles asks even as he fondly watch Scott and Isaac doing some water wrestling or something.

 

Derek puts the book upside-down on his lap, the book opening wide on the page that he was reading just seconds ago. He watches the scene that is playing in front of him – Isaac’s winning whatever it was that he’s playing with Scott – and he just…sighs. “I don’t know, Stiles.”

 

“What stupid ass answer is that?” Stiles shoots back almost instantly. “How come _you_ don’t know why you’re here? I mean, you probably drove here with all that bucket of chicken wings and wine coolies, right?” Stiles watches Derek closely as he slowly turns his head and glares at Stiles. “No Stiles,” Derek says, “I fucking _walked_ here. With Peter _on my shoulder_ s.”

 

Out of nowhere, Peter whoops at that, and both Derek and Stiles whips their heads towards Peter so fast, Stiles is afraid that he’ll get a whiplash or something – lucky Derek, he can probably cure it with no time. “Hey,” Peter half-shouts, “not bad imagination you have there, Derek,” and that devil laughs as he down the beer that he’s nursing.

 

Stiles can’t help but laughs along with Peter and that makes Derek turns his glare towards Stiles and scowls as hard as he could at him – it’s like a freaking table tennis game between him and Peter with Derek’s glare as the ball. Derek harrumphs when Stiles shrugs at him, and picks up the book and continues on reading.

 

Stiles stands up then, and heads over to the food table. His casseroles is a hit, and somehow people kept on patting Scott on the shoulder, saying that it was the best idea to combine cheese, chicken, and beef together and Stiles didn’t even received a single thank you. Except from Allison, which probably should’ve count but it somehow didn’t, not in Stiles’ book anyway.

 

Stiles’ still trying to pick the best chicken wings out of the bucket when Derek plucks his plate from his hand (“Hey!”) and starts to scoop Stiles’ casseroles and the salad. “Nice casseroles,” Derek comments, before he walks back to the chaises lounge and starts to dive into his plate of what probably is a balanced diet or something. Stiles didn’t really realizes the small smile that was on his face – Scott thought it’ll be funny to throw a small ball of wet plushy beach ball at his back.

 

Stiles may have thrown a chicken wing at Scott in retaliation, to which Lydia shouts at the top of her lungs, “No food in the pool!”

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Stiles watches on as Scott and Allison dance around each other – in the most literal sense too; there so much of jumping and swirling done in that pool – while the rest of the people in that pool stayed either oblivious or in-character about the tension that reeks between them. Stiles sighs, aloud, and caught the attention of all the wolves except for Scott, who continued on half-chasing, half-running away from Allison.

 

“What’re you looking at?” Derek asks, and Stiles would love to name that frown he has on his face right now as the ‘concern frown’ because otherwise it’ll be pretty stupid as to why Derek’s even asking him. Stiles doesn’t reply back though, instead he gestures towards Scott, who was trying to avoid Jackson, who’s squirting water at Scott with a water gun, while seemingly trying to be nearer to Allison – seems like that kid finally learned how to utilize the things he have around him as working alibis.

 

“What? Scott?” Stiles nods, and he didn’t even notice if Derek’s watching him or if he’s watching Scott’s too, but Stiles did see the small twitch of his lips when both Erica and Isaac pushes Allison and Scott (respectively) together, Lydia’s laughter and cheer roaring louder than Danny’s laptop that have been playing numerous song from God knows who (but they were awesome songs, really, Danny’s taste is _purr-fect_.)

 

Stiles slumps back to the lounges, and gingerly places the second bottle of beer he’d been nursing (when the creepy Peter insisted he have one) on his forehead, letting the coolness of the beer seeps through his warm and clammy skin. “Well,” Stiles exclaims, and he hears more than he sees Derek shifting to look at him from his place at the other lounge, “if they’re happy chasing each other’s tail, why not let them be?”

 

Stiles then closes his eyes, and the grunt of agreement that came from the besides him tells him that it is the most perfectly idealistic thought of the night.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

The packs are fighting.

 

Lucky for Danny, they’re not _really_ fighting – they’re more like bickering, or arguing, or being a bitch if you ask Stiles.

 

It all started when Boyd shouted “Kibasen” out of nowhere and apart from Boyd, Danny, and Stiles, no one else knew what Boyd was getting all hyped out about. Boyd, Danny and Stiles then proceeded to explain to them the simplicity of kibasen, which really is just a normal chicken fight, but with teams of four instead of two. And also silly hats.

 

That is what they are all fighting about right now. Now according to Lydia’s reiteration, she’s sticking with Jackson, who of course would be joined by Danny, and that leaves either Scott or Allison to join the team, since the rest of the pack surely want to stick together.

 

(Stiles swears to God that Derek smiled when Erica told Lydia, “No, _none_ of us will join your team!”)

 

Now the thing is, no matter what team chooses who as their last partner, it will be a damn uneven game anyway. Team Wolf Pack have like three freaking werewolves, and Team Gorgeous (for obvious reasons) only have one pup. And even if Scott joins Team Gorgeous, they’ll be facing three other betas and Erica is up on the high, so there really is little chance that they’ll win – unless if Lydia stashed some wolfsbane in her bikini.

 

Which is totally not a good thought to be having, Stiles.

 

Danny, that poor dude, was having a hard time trying to guess what they’re talking about with all the innuendos and half-truth that they kept on throwing to the open – Stiles only fear was either (1) Danny was smart enough that he’d figured everything out with the help of search engines _or_ (2) Derek breaking down first and go all ‘I’m the Alpha’ at everybody for their noise _and_ Danny figured things out without the help of search engines because things will be otherwise pretty much _clear_ as a day at that point.

 

Scott’s now arguing with Allison about who gets to go where, and Stiles have a feeling that things are about to get a tad bit personal, when Peter claps his hands loud enough to catch the attention of all the people in the pool, Derek and Stiles included. “Now,” Peter says, as he climbs up to his feet, and starts to walk forward, “How about we make this kibasen thing into a normal chicken fight instead, because from what I’m seeing, you guys aren’t really fond of working together and sharing stuff…”

 

The moment the last word escapes Peter’s mouth, everybody starts to move around in the pool: Jackson catches Lydia’s arm and pulls her close, Boyd and Erica are already hugging and making kissy-kissy faces at each other at one corner, Allison making this ‘oh God, only you left?’ face and trudging slowly towards a grinning Scott, which leaves Danny and Isaac, who seems comfortable enough with each other that they traded some knuckle punches.

 

“Great. Now, if I may ask for your help, Stiles?” Peter turns around and holds his hand out to Stiles. Stiles gapes for a moment before senses start to come back to him. _Maybe he wants me to be a referee or something_ , Stiles thoughts as he grabs for Peter’s hand.

 

Peter smiles is pure evil, and the next thing Stiles knew, he’s upside down and the sky is filled with water and the ground is so pretty with all these blinking star decoration. _Wait, what the he_ –

 

_Splash!_

 

Stiles hits the water head first and there’s a hand that grabs for his as he tries to find his balance once more, completely submerged under water. Stiles gasps for air, and Boyd is behind him, hitting his back as Stiles coughs up water out of his lungs. “Dude!” Stiles yells at Peter, who is laughing like it is seriously a laughing matter. “ _What the hell_?!”

 

Peter is still laughing, but he’s also popping the button of his shirt, one by one. “Well,” Peter already undone half of his buttons when he finally is calm enough to talk, “I guessed it’s not ‘fair’ since there’s only four of them and thought that adding one more team in that pool would probably make the game spirit hitch up a bit, y’know?” Peter then fucking winks at Stiles, and throws his balled-up shirt at one of the lounges.

 

Scott stares at Stiles like there is nothing else in this world he’d rather do.

 

Maybe Danny too from his perch on top of Isaac, but Stiles is too busy gaping at Peter, who is about to dive in, already hunching down, his arms drawn together in front of him, when there’s another splash, albeit a quieter one, and then _Derek_ is in the pool. “I’ll do it,” he says, as he brushes the water off his face and finger-combs his hair backward. Everybody gape at him as he approaches a very speechless Stiles, and out of the corner of all of their accumulative attention, Peter says, “Been thinking about you doing that, really. Oh well.”

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

So, apparently, werewolves’ skins maintain their body heat even when they’re underwater – or maybe it’s because the pool is actually temperature-regulated, but _nah_ , that can’t be it. Plus, Stiles’ butt is so fucking comfortable right now – Derek’s shoulder is so wide and his butts and his whole legs just love the feel of Derek’s warm skin on them – he wishes to swimming pool deity that he won’t have to get down from it, _ever_.

 

“Stiles, for the millionth time, we’ve already won, can you please come down now?” Derek’s voice is not whiny, nor is it angry, and Stiles take that as something that probably means that this is Derek’s ‘I’m not sure why I don’t just tear you off my shoulder, probably because I actually like it, but I’m just going to say this because this is what the society expects from me’ voice. Plus Derek begging is something new for Stiles, the last time he remembered Derek being like this there were less words and more shoves and the only words are threats.

 

Also, Stiles might’ve been a little bit drunk. Blame that to Allison and Erica, those bitches. When Stiles and Derek won the first round, everybody (saves for Danny) whined about how unfair it was that Stiles could have Derek as his ‘vehicle’ and that they demand a rematch. And so there’s a rematch – and from the grunts that he hears from all the other ‘vehicles’ he knew there’s another set of different match going on down there that involves legs, probably with _claws_.

 

And believe it or not, Stiles and Derek still won that second round. Someone – probably Isaac – suggested that whoever won would’ve to take a shot of beer before the next round – which everybody seems to be agreeing as they all nodded and looked at both Stiles and Derek pointedly.

 

Peter came in exactly at that time with a large bottle of tequila in one hand and a box of beers in another and a very huge grin on his face. “How about the winner take shots of tequila each, and the losers, which mean the rest of y’all, would have to share a bottle of beer with your teammate? Sounds fair?”

 

That is the reason that Stiles’ drunk right now. Stiles is most likely drunk beyond his mind. And probably Derek too, but he seems too sober to be drunk, so whatever. But the verdict is still the same even after 6 shots of tequila; Stiles and Derek is the greatest chicken fight team ever!

 

“We are the greatest chicken fight couple ever!” Stiles shouts, shooting his hands upward victoriously, Derek’s hands tightening minutely on his knees as Stiles almost falls backward into the pool. He knew he’d said something wrong, but his inebriated-self can’t seem to find anything _semantically_ wrong with that sentence, so yeah.

 

From beneath him, Derek grunts, and Stiles nudges Derek’s belly with his heel. “Hey, sourwolf, cheer up. We won, right? We’re on top! Well, I’m on top, you’re directly below me, like literally, but we still won as a couple, right?!”

 

Derek mumbles something, and Stiles human (and drunk) ears can’t pick it up. “What?” Stiles asks as he cards his fingers in Derek’s hair for purchase and he bows down towards Derek to hear better what he was saying. Derek sighs, heavily, before staring right at Stiles’ eyes. “I said – it’s ‘team’, not couple.”

 

Stiles is so surprise with himself when he fall into a giggling fit, knocking his head with Derek’s and Stiles hugging Derek’s head as tightly as he can. “You’re so stupid, sourwolf,” Stiles shouts directly to Derek’s ear, which should be bad considering the enhanced hearing and all, but whatever – he’s drunk. Derek growls at him, and Stiles growls back, before straightening back up and try to claw Derek’s face with his hand – which ended up with Stiles in the pool when he lost his balance from his perch on Derek’s shoulder.

 

Stiles gulps some chlorinated pool water, before Derek fishes him out of the pool, and instantly Stiles starts laughing and laughing and he didn’t even stop when Derek drags his drunken ass from the pool, that were filled with lovey-dovey, drunk teenagers who are sucking each other’s faces.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

The last thing that Stiles remembered that night was Derek drying him off with one of the towels that Lydia provided for everybody, and Stiles’ stupid ass attempt of helping Derek out, muttering stuff about not wanting to owe deeds to Derek. Derek, surprisingly, stayed quiet the whole time and let Stiles finishes his sad attempt of drying Derek off. Derek plucked the towel off Stiles’ hands before patting himself dry on the places that Stiles forgotten or just too lazy to do.

 

Stiles passed out after he tried to rat-tail Derek’s fat ass but managed rat-tails his own face, instead. Stiles pretty sure he saw Derek’s fat ass shaking in what he thinks as an ass-laugh to his face. He kind of remembered hearing laughter too – but his intoxicated brain told him that the only sounds that came out from the ass are farts and not laughter, and that sometimes farts sound like laughter.  So there’s that.

 

And then Stiles passed out for real.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Derek wakes up in the middle of the night, the jerky movement causing Stiles to stir in his sleep, a small whine escaping his mouth. Derek presses his nose to the back of Stiles’ neck, breathing in deep, the scent of chlorine and sweat and _Stiles_ – and slowly but surely, Stiles calms down again and falls into a deep sleep, his breathing _, in and out, in and out_ , a soothing sound to Derek’s sensitive ears.

 

Somewhere between falling back to sleep and trying to stay awake, Derek hears the clanking sound of glasses, and he perks up and sees Peter sitting on the other side of the room with the lights off, a bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of him. “Go back to sleep, Derek,” Peter says to him.

 

Derek growls for a second, before he remembers that Stiles’ sleeping peacefully in his arms. He forces his wolf to calm down then, but still let the red bleeds through his eyes. Peter exhales heavily when he sees the red in Derek’s eyes. “I’ve got this,” Peter explains, “I can keep an eye on the house, so just go back to sleep.”

 

“I don’t trust you,” Derek mumbles, because he knew Peter can hear him well enough. Even when Derek said that, he still falls back to the couch, getting as comfortable as he could sharing that small space with Stiles and having his arm playing pillow for Stiles’ head. “I’ll never trust you.”

 

Peter chuckles softly at that, although to Derek it sounded as if he chuckles right next Derek’s ears. “I know,” Peter says. “That’s why you should keep your hands tight on that boy; you don’t want him going missing in your arms now, do you?” Peter asks.

 

Derek shakes his head, and burrows deeper into Stiles’ cropped-head, inhaling the smell of sweat and chlorine and Stiles. He closes his eyes, the act almost unwillingly, and did as he was told – he tightens the hold he has on Stiles, minutely tugging the boy closer still to his chest even as he is lull to sleep by Stiles’ breathing and steady heartbeat. “No,” Derek says. “ _Mine_ ,” and at that same moment, Stiles just melts back into Derek’s hold, eliminating whatever space left between their crushed torso.

 

Somewhere in the dead of the night, Peter’s voice floats through it and lands on sleeping ears. “Very well,” he said.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

That night, Stiles had a dream.

 

In that dream, he was at an alcove deep in the forest, facing a beautiful lake that has a reflection of the huge, bright blue moon from up in the skies.

 

He can feel the presence of another person – although Stiles knew, deep down from his heart, that it was no person at all. Stiles twisted and twirled mid-air, and there, there’s the person: a huge, black wolf with eyes as red as blood, shining in the dead of the night. The wolf was looking, watching, _staring_ intently as Stiles danced around the lake and over in the alcove, his silly moves and twirling and twisting limbs amuses the wolf.

 

‘Come wolf,’ Stiles remembered saying, ‘Come, and let’s go home.’

 

That dream ended with Stiles dancing his way home, the big black wolf with embers as his eyes following close behind him, as they both make their way into the woods and back to their home, together.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering, this fic came from this video here, by the [DyE, from a song titled Fantasy](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QFwo57WKwg). Now heads up, if you're going to click that link and watch that video prior or after this fic, BE WARNED: From 1:47, that's 1 minute and 47 seconds, the video will be super weird. Frankly, I almost barfed, no joke okay? So click with cautious and if you did clicked that link, please go on and just watch it till the very end, you'd question life just like what I did after watching that video.


End file.
